


old bones

by redtruthed



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Gen, Love, Reconciliation, dramedy fic, healing!!, therapy fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-26 03:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19759870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtruthed/pseuds/redtruthed
Summary: When Jason Todd returns to Gotham after months of silence, it's no surprise that he's there to start chaos. Bruce just always thought it'd be the murdery, gang-war kind. And NOT the going to therapy, doing yoga and buying a cat kind.(Aka- Jason Todd's very bumpy quest for normalcy. Featuring bouts of regret, angst and shenangigans. Because what Wayne antics aren't?)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> YOOOO im back!!! was browsing the jason todd & bruce wayne tag the other day cos it's my fave and this idea popped into my head?? also im so sorry ive been gone?? real bad mental health shit has been happening?? aLSO my tumblr is back?? there's no real posts or anything because i'm mostly just using it to talk to people and view blogs and all that, but feel free to pop me a message and say hello! i'm bed bound at the minute and would absolutely love some company!!
> 
> redtruthed.tumblr.com
> 
> anyway pls enjoy!! this fic is dedicated to tom king, scott lobdell and whoever wrote that nightwing arc about him hating technology xxx

i. 

**“homecoming!”**

The first person to talk to Jason all week thinks he’s trying to start a gang war. In Tim’s defence, that’s usually what Jason comes to Gotham for. Still, it’s not the nicest thing to hear at A: 3am in the morning, or B: when Jason’s just taken the biggest fucking shit in the universe. 

Seriously. It’s Darkseid level. Jason doesn’t know how Tim made it this far. But he supposes he should greet him anyway, otherwise the family’ll think he’s being hostile, and mean, and dark and dangerous and scary. Then again, they’ll probably think that anyway.

“Oh hey, Timmy,” he says, one hand on the bathroom door. 

Red Robin’s a few feet away. In full gear, of course. Also brandishing his weird pole stick thing in the dark. Jason should really ask what that’s called one day. However, at this point in the morning, and with this much alcohol in his system, he’s far too tired to care.

“Don’t you  _ Timmy  _ me,” Tim says. He’s trying his best to achieve a snarl. “I’m not stupid.”

“Huh?” Jason asks. Tim’s talking too loud, and he wants water. Waaaateerr….

“I’m not falling for it.” Tim protests. “This weird-  _ innocence- _ game, or whatever you wanna call it. I’m not falling for it.”

“I’m not playing a game, Tim,” Jason says. “I’m tired, I’m drunk, and I’m just done taking a shit.”

“Oh.” Tim steps back a little. His nose wrinkles. “You are?”

“Yes!” Jason says. “Fuck me, can’t you smell it?”

Tim says nothing. He’s still brandishing his stick towards Jason, like he has a plan, or any tangible means of dealing with him at all. Aww.

“What is wrong with your nose?” Jason protests. “Seriously?”

He takes a step forward. Tim holds the stick higher, uncertain. Jason thrusts his hands in the air.

“M’just gonna close the door,” he says, half asleep. “Okay?”

Tim watches him for a second before nodding. Jason closes the door before backing away, comedian-style, into the kitchen.

“Best thing about a bungalow,” he says, hands still raised, “is that I can always hear you guys coming. No far-away roofs. No muffling.”

“Is that so,” Tim says. He’s still holding the stupid stick up, bless.

“Did you come in through the skylight?” 

“What’s it to you?”

“Well,” Jason says, still walking, “if so, the skylight’s probably open, and I don’t want Bessie out this time o’night.”

Tim stops in his tracks. “Bessie?”

“Yea!” Jason turns to face him. “Bessie!”

“What the fuck is Bessie!”

“My cat!” Jason says.

Tim scrumples his face. “You have a  _ cat?” _

“Of course I have a cat!” Jason protests, lowering his hands. “Fuck you!”

“You had a dog before!”

“And now I have a cat!” Jason says. “Is there a problem?”

“Where’s the dog?” Tim says, holding the stick at Jason’s throat. 

“Oh my God,” Jason starts to laugh. He raises his hands once more. “What are you even trying to do here, Timmy?”

“Where’s the cat?” Tim continues. “Is the cat even real?”

“Timmy,” Jason says, very calmly. “Have you taken your meds?”

Tim watches him for a second, unmoving. 

“What? You think I’d attack you while you-” Jason rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

“Stay still.”

“I am staying still!” Jason protests. “And listen, I know I haven’t seen you in a while, but if you really think I’d sink that low, then-”

“Stay  _ still _ , Jason,” Tim says.

Jason shuts up. Tim pops open a compartment on his belt, gets a pill out and swallows it. Jason watches him clasp shut the compartment once more. Then, he’s right back to business, holding the stick at Jason’s throat like it never left there.

“Thank you,” Tim says, “for not moving.”

“Uh, you’re welcome?” Jason says. “Also, is this going to be over soon, because I’m really tired, and I’ve got shit to do in about seven hours, so-”

“Hold up hold up,” Tim says. “You haven’t proven your cat’s real.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jason pinches his brow. “You really want proof it’s real?”

“Yes!”

“Look,” Jason says, pointing. “Bowls and food down there. Treats up there. Toys on the counter, bed in the living room-”

“Okay,” Tim says, lowering his stick a little. “Your cat’s real. Okay.”

“Okay?” Jason frowns. “You’re not even gonna look?”

“I scanned the whole house when I came in,” Tim says. “I just wanted proof it was yours.”

“Excuse me, I have documents for that,” Jason says. “Also, I could’ve stolen the house.”

Tim shakes his head. “Impossible.”

“You don’t know,” Jason says. “I’ve got a very good memory.”

“Your memory is shit.”

“My memory is  _ not _ shit,” Jason protests. “I know a good deal more than you do.”

“If you’re going to say it’s because you’re older than me, I am going to hit you,” Tim says. “Also, where are your plans?”

“My what now?”

“Your plans. For what you’re going to do this time,” Tim says. “You may as well surrender them up now.”

Jason grins. “What, than have the whole gang discover them in a few weeks?”

Tim shrugs. “Well, yeah.”

Jason grins even more. “Did Bruce send you to get them?”

“No, but I thought I’d ask anyway,” Tim says. “It’s never fun, you know. Having to pin you down and lock you away.”

“Well, today is your lucky day, darling brother,” Jason smiles so hard his face hurts. “I ain’t up to shit!”

Tim looks completely baffled. “What?”

“You don’t have to lock me up for shit! Because I’m not doing anything!”

“But...but you’re always doing something.”

“Nope,” Jason says. “Not this time.”

Tim points a finger. “Stop the bullshit, Jay. I’m not kidding.”

“Neither am I.” Jason says. “Listen to me when I say it, Timmy. Squeaaky clean. Squ-eaak-yy-”

“Stop it, alright?” Tim snaps. “Just stop. Whatever this is- it’s not funny, or cute, or-”

Jason gasps in affrontation. “You don’t think my house is cute?”

“No!” Tim says. “I don’t! I mean, for God’s sake, you have a welcome mat, Jason! This isn’t you!”

“Right,” Jason says. “Because people like me have lairs. And basements. And dark, gloomy castles.”

“I’m not saying that,” Tim says, a little quieter. “I’m just saying you’re up to something.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re always up to something! We haven’t seen you in months! And now you’re back here, in Gotham, without a word, and now you’re suddenly living the good life?” Tim throws his hands in the air. “I don’t buy it! I’m sorry, Jay! But I just don’t!”

There’s a silence for a moment. Jason leans against the fridge, eyebrows high.

“You know, out of all that,” he says, after a while, “the only thing that shocks me is the fact you hate my house.”

“I don’t hate your house,” Tim says, with a sigh. He rubs his forehead in fatigue. “I don’t. I just don’t know what’s going on.”

Jason grins. “Don’t you now.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t find out,” Tim adds, darkly.

“Well, have fun with that,” Jason says, arms crossed. “Would you like some tea?”

“What?”

“Tea. T-E.A. People drink it.”

“I know what tea is,” Tim says, baffled. He watches as Jason walks over to the kettle. “I just...are you seriously offering me this right now?”

“Yes!” Jason says. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Tim opens his mouth to reply, and quickly closes it. Jason can almost see the dark, angry thoughts circling around his head.

“Fine,” Jason says. “Tea for one, then.”

“You’d probably poison mine, anyway,” Tim adds, just to be petty.

Jason snorts, filling the kettle as he does so. “You know, there’s a certain skill to making tea.”

“Is there really,” Tim says. He prowls slowly around the kitchen, scanning objects as he does so. Jason imagines him looking for explosives or secret weapons and laughs. 

“Yeah,” Jason says. He puts the kettle on the stove. “No matter how many times you read the rulebook, it’s one of those things that takes practise. You could follow the instructions perfectly whilst making your first and it’ll still be wrong. Because it won’t be truly  _ yours, _ you know?”

“What are you talking about?” Tim says, looking up. “Is this a diversion?”

Jason snorts, pouring his tea. “Nah. Just wanted to tell you some tea lore. Have you ever made tea?”

“No, Alfred always-” Tim gapes suddenly. “Jason. Wait.  _ Jason.” _

“What?”

“Is this- is this  _ small talk?” _ Tim asks. “Are you small talking me?”

“What does that matter?” Jason says, suddenly defensive. He shrinks into his shoulders and turns away. 

“Because- you’re the Red Hood. You don’t  _ small talk _ .”

“Well maybe I do now.”

“Did something happen to you abroad?” Tim asks, slowly approaching. “Something we should know about?”

“Like a bump to the head?”

“Yes. Or some kind of…?” Tim tilts his head. “Brainwashing?”

“Nope!” Jason turns around again. “I’m right as rain, thank you. Thank you very  _ fucking  _ much.”

“...Okay?”

Jason finishes his cup of tea and stares at it. Tim stands awkwardly a few feet away.

“I’m trying to be normal,” Jason hisses.

“Normal?” Tim asks. “Like a normal person, normal?”

“Yes.”

Tim frowns a little, like he couldn’t even begin to understand the reasons behind that. “Well... _ why?” _

“Because I’m tired of being something. I’m tired of being the Red Hood, or somebody’s son, or somebody’s regret, or someone’s enemy, or someones vendetta, or someone’s assassin, or someone’s killer, or anything. I don’t want to be anything,” Jason hisses. “So I’m being nothing. I’m being normal.”

“And your way of normal is to buy a house and a cat and make tea?” Tim asks. He’s smiling a little now. “That’s your idea of normal?”

Jason plays with his sleeve. “Well...yeah.”

“Jason, that’s like the least normal thing you could do.” Tim notices Jason’s glare and rethinks. “I mean, for you. I mean, it’s the least normal thing for  _ Jason Todd  _ to be found doing.”

“Well, Jason Todd’s a fucking loser,” Jason says, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sick of him.”

Tim looks to the floor. “O...kay?”

“Is this over, or can I go to bed?”

“I thought you were making me tea.”   


“You didn’t want tea.”

“Oh, yeah.” Tim looks to the stove. “I didn’t want tea.”

“And you can tell Bruce, or whatever, to come fight me in the morning,” Jason says, walking out the kitchen. “Or at least when the shit smell’s gone. Last thing I want is him coming at me for that.”

“Bruce wouldn’t come for you for your...smell, Jason.” Tim says. “Or the smell of your house.”

“Oh, so it’s my house, now?” Jason says. “Thought I lived in a lair? Or a creepy-ass mansion?”

“I’m not entirely sure you don’t,” Tim says. 

“So you’ll be back.”

“Jason, you went completely off the grid for eight months. Now you’re back...acting strange. Of course I’ll be back,” Tim says.

“Good to know,” Jason says, walking away once more. “I’ll make tea.”

“Jason,” Tim blurts.

Jason turns around. He made the tea too hot. Fuck! The mug handle’s burning his hand. Fuck fuck fuck fuck  _ fuck! _

“I’ve tried this...normal thing before,” Tim admits. He looks sincere now, which is a good change from downright paranoid. “It’s hard. There’s a reason none of us stick to it.”

“Well, I’m not really  one of you, am I?” Jason says. “So I’m sure I’ll get on just fine.”

He turns away. Tim lingers in the doorway for a second, unsure. And then his shadow fades.

-

When Jason gets up the next morning, there’s a sticky note on his skylight. It’s an address, followed by a note in extremely, almost meticulously neat handwriting-

_NORMAL PEOPLE GO TO THERAPY._

_ASK FOR VELMA. SHE’S THE BEST._

_-T_

-

“Aaaand that’s how I got to you,” Jason finishes. He looks up at Velma, who regards him with a neutral, unimpressed look. “Ta-da!”

“Let me get this straight,” Velma says. She’s a short, thin woman, with curly hair and a face dominated by circular glasses. “You were out of the country for a while. Your first greeting upon coming back _into_ the country and buying a new house is being accosted by your younger brother at 3am, who not only accuses you of plotting heinous crimes  but  tells you to go to therapy, investigates your furniture, insults your house and exits through the skylight.”

Jason ponders this  for a moment. 

“Yeah,” he says, eventually. “That sounds pretty on-par for Tom, actually. ”

Velma switches her expression to _slightly doubtful._

“And you  _ still _ followed his advice?”

“Well, yea,” Jason says, swinging on his chair. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“This…” Velma examines her notes.  _ “Tom  _ seems like a very strange source of support.”

“That’s my family for you,” Jason says. “Strange.”

“Well, you decided to get help.” Velma leans back in her chair. “That’s your first step to becoming normal. What’s next?”

“I’m not sure,” Jason says, resting his feet on the table in front of him. “Do you think I should grow a beard?”

-


	2. Chapter 2

ii. 

**“brotherhood!”**

Dick isn’t drunk enough for this.

He blinks down at the cat. The cat blinks back.

Nope. He is  _ definitely  _ not drunk enough for this.

“Nightwing to Batcave,” he says, pressing the comm in his ear. “Anyone on?”

“I am on,” Damian’s voice comes stuffily over the speaker.

“Oh,” Dick says, cheerfully. “Good.”

“If you meant on, as in on the line,” Damian adds, thoughtfully. “And not on, as in on the chair. Because I am not currently on the chair.”

“That’s okay, Dami,” Dick says. “You don’t have to be on the chair.”

“Hang on,” Damian says.

Dick frowns. “What?”

“I’m on my way.”

“On your way where?” Dick says, looking up.

“To the chair!” Damian says. Dick can hear the unspoken _“Duh!”_ in his head. Loud footsteps ensue.

Dick sighs and pinches his brow. He is definitely, definitely not drunk enough for this.

A loud, squeaky nose breaks the silence. “Okay. I am there. Relay your predicament, Richard.”

“Do you know what Tim said last night?” Dick asks. “About Jason having a cat?”

“Yes,” Damian says. “A ridiculous presumption, for sure.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

Dick can  _ feel _ Damian scowling over the line. “Why?”

“It’s kind of...glaring at me.”

“Hold on, hold on.” Damian says, typing avidly. “Where are you?”

“Outside his house,” Dick says. “About to visit. Y’know. As is the plan.”

“Hang on. Yes. I see you,” Damian says, and then scoffs. “What’s the problem again?”

“The cat!” Dick says, gesturing to it. “The cat’s the problem!”

“How is that cat a problem?” Damian protests. “It’s cute!”

“It looks like a black hole.” Dick says. “A...fluffy one.”

“It’s still a cat.”

“Listen, Dami,” Dick says, somewhat desperately. “When cats attack, do they go for the knees or the throat?”

“I cannot believe you, Richard. Just walk past it!”

“I don’t want to walk past it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s going to fight me!” Dick says. “I don’t wanna fight Jason’s cat!”

“Then just  _ walk past it.” _ Damian hisses. “You are ridiculous.”

“I’m just a dog person, is all,” Dick says, taking tentative steps forward. “I feel like if I call this cat a good girl it’s gonna chew my toe off.”

“You’re such a wimp.”   


“I am not a wimp. I just don’t get cats.”

“You are a wimp,” Damian says, before pausing. “Now go on. Move past the cat or I’m making this a family-wide channel.”

“Please don’t.”

“Then move!” 

Dick runs past the cat. It watches him, seething. And then it runs right through his legs.

“Holy shit!”

_ “Richard!” _

“Sorry!” Dick says, clutching his chest. “Holy fuck. That was just- fuck. holy fuck.”

He looks up. The cat has disappeared from view. For a second he thinks it’s behind him, and his stomach drops. Then, he realises the cat flap at the front door is swinging.

“Great,” Dick hisses. “It’s inside.”

“All the villains we’ve faced together as Batman and Robin,” Damian says, obviously bored. “All the lives we’ve saved. The challenges we’ve faced. And you’re afraid of a cat.”

“Alright, alright,” Dick says. “There’s no need to be mean.”

“Just be honest with him, Richard,” Damian says, and then turns the comm off.

“Him?” Dick says. “What do you mean,  _ him?” _

He joins the dots the moment the door swings open.

Jason Todd emerges from his bungalow in a dark green hoodie. His hair is long and curly- a far cry from the buzzcut he sported the last time Dick saw him. He also doesn’t seem to be stuck in homicidal rage, which is also a far cry from the last time Dick saw him. He doesn’t approach Dick, which isn’t surprising. Instead, he stands in the doorway, holding the cat like a third-rate supervillain.

“I’ve been expecting you,” he says.

Dick takes a couple of steps forward. He puts his hands in his pockets; he can’t help it. “What?”

“You are so uncultured, Dickie,” Jason laughs. “Long time no see.”

Dick takes another step forward. “...Yeah.”

“How’s your head?” 

“Great.” Dick raises a hand to the scar, but thinks better of it. “How are you?”

Jason puts the cat on the floor and raises his hands. “Finally!”

He walks out of the doorway, closes the door behind him, and joins Dick on the path. He’s energetic, Dick thinks. Almost to a strange degree.

“I’ve been in town three days and you’re the first person to ask me that,” Jason says, clapping Dick on the shoulder. “The very first one! Thank you. Thank. You.”

“Is it important to you?” Dick asks. “That people ask you that?”

“Well...not really. Well...actually, yes. It’s a normal thing people do, right? Asking others how they are?”

“Yeah,” Dick says. “It is.”

“Well...then...I guess it is,” Jason shrugs. “Do you wanna go out?”

Dick stares at Jason for a second, mind whirring. “Whuh?”

“Let’s go for a beer or something, man.” Jason says. “And no. It’s not so we can have an amazing, jaw-dropping bar fight. Although, that would be great right about now.”

“You’re...in need of fighting someone?” Dick raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, isn’t everyone?” Jason says, waving a hand. “But nah. I just...let’s go out somewhere, man. Let’s do it. It’ll be cool.”

“Alright,” Dick says. He smiles, unable to help himself. “Alright, yeah! I guess it would be cool!”

“You might wanna take your weird little Batcam off for this,” Jason warns, with a smile. “Things are gonna get nasty.”

-

Bars are weird at night in Gotham. They’re even weirder with your little brother around. Dick has an urge to shove people out of the way that he’s pretty sure wasn’t there before. And every time Jason downs a drink, he shudders, like Alfred’s pouring ice down his back. Hell. Alfred’s  _ shouldn’t you know better _ glare pretty much does that already.

“Hey. Don’t you think you should slow down?”

He sounds like a whiner, but in Dick’s defence, he’s just watched Jason down his thirteenth drink in twenty minutes. And he’s not so keen on watching the aftermath.

“Slowing down is for pussies,” Jason says. He reaches for the next glass along, and Dick slaps his hand.

“We haven’t talked at all since we got here.”

“I didn’t know we were here to talk.”   


“Of course we’re here to talk,” Dick says, hurt. “I haven’t seen you in eight months.” 

Jason shrugs. “Meh.” 

“I mean- what did you think I came to your house to do?”

“I don’t know,” Jason said. “Fight me?”

Dick is absolutely floored by this. Dick also understands the irony of being floored by this, considering he and Jason have fought each other on multiple occasions. But it never fails to floor him, every time.

“Jason,” Dick says, slowly. “I would never.”

“Yes you would.” Jason scowls. “It’s all you ever do.”

“Who’s you?”

“You know!” Jason shoves him playfully. “The family! The gang! The peeps!”

Dick watches him for a moment, incredibly still. “Did you just say _peeps,_ Jason?”

“Oh my God.” Jason groans, tipping his head back.

“Jason,” Dick says, shuffling his chair in. “Did you just- did you really just say peeps?”

“Fuck off, Dick.”

“It’s 2019.”

“Fuck  _ off _ , Dick,” Jason says. “This is my new start, and I can say what I want.”

Dick raises his eyebrows. “You’re making a new start?”

“Yes, I am making a new start,” Jason reaches forward. “Now pass me my drink.”

“I don’t know,” Dick says, holding the trays hostage. “This seems a lot like the old Jason to me.”

“I didn’t say I was turning into anyone else, now, did I?”

“It’s just- the words  _ new start _ indicate change,” Dick says, moving the trays further away. “And this- this doesn’t feel new.”

“Oh my God. I literally built a treehouse today. Could you give me a break for five minutes?”

Dick stops then, because he’s genuinely surprised. And while he does so, Jason slips past and steals a drink. Classic.

“You built a treehouse?”

“Yeah,” Jason says. He’s trying not to make it sound like a big deal, but he’s staring at the floor, which almost certainly means that it is.

“Well-” Dick stops, bewildered. “Why?”

“The fuck’d you mean, _ why? _ ” 

“I mean, why? Why did you build one?”

They stare at each other for a moment. Dick doesn’t back down, so Jason does, mumbling quietly- “I just wanted one, okay?”

“Can I see it?”

“No!” Jason snaps. And then- “Well, maybe. But no.”

“How long did it take?”   


“Pretty much all day.”

“I didn’t know you could build.” Dick says. “Since when could you do that?”

“Since Bruce Wayne adopted me, you twat,” Jason says. “Do you not remember that 101 course he made us do on woodwork?”

“Yeah, but that was like, on how to build a fucking clock holder, Jay,” Dick says. “A treehouse is a pretty big step up.”

“What do you think Wikihow is for?” Jason asks.

Dick starts laughing at that, which pisses Jason off. He kicks Dick under the table until he stops.

“What?” Jason hisses. “What, you fucker?”

“I just can’t believe you built a Wikihow treehouse,” Dick says, wiping his eyes.

“Well, I didn’t,” Jason says, defensively. “I built a  _ Jason _ treehouse.”

Dick missed this. He doesn’t want to admit it most days, but he did.

“Okay,” he says, taking a drink of his own. “So what’s the difference between a normal treehouse and a _Jason_ treehouse?”

“I’ve wanted one since I was three,” Jason says. “Name a single other person that’s wanted a treehouse since they were three and then  _ built  _ one. You can’t. There’s nobody.”

“That’s a pretty bold claim, Jason.”

“Nope.”

“I mean there’s probably someone, somewhere.”

“Nope.”

Dick bursts out laughing. “You can’t just say ‘nope’.”

“I told you once, and I’ll tell you again,” Jason says, pointing a finger. “This is my new start. I can do whatever I want.”

“Alright, alright.” Dick holds his hands up. “So what’s next?”

“What’s next is I grow a beard. And then I...I guess I need a job, right?” Jason looks up.

“You tell me,” Dick says. “What’s so important about a job?”

“Spoken like a true trust fund kid.” Jason rolls his eyes. “Okay, so. I’m trying to be normal.”

“Why?”

“Oh  _ God _ ,” Jason cringes. “Not you too.”   


“I’m serious. Why would you want to be normal, Jay?” Dick says. “I mean- you’re  _ you. _ ”

Jason retreats. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No- I don’t mean it as an insult,” Dick shakes his head. “I’d  _ never _ . It’s just- you’re great. You’re great the way you are. And I know you’re annoying sometimes, but-”

“Alright,” Jason says, holding up a hand. “I’m gonna stop you right there. This isn’t about me.”

Dick narrows his eyes. “Allllllright?”

“I’m not trying to change me that much, okay?” Jason reaches for another drink. “I’m just. The lifestyle, you know?”

“Alrright?”

Jason laughs. “You are so not getting what I’m saying.”

“And you are  _ so _ not making sense,” Dick attests. “Weirdo.”

“I’m sick of being something. I just want to be normal. I want to do normal things. I want to go normal places. I want to have normal interactions and normal days. So I’m trying to be normal. Do you...do you understand?”

Jason looks up at him as though his approval means the world. And all Dick can do is stumble over the words, again and again and again and again.

“I think so,” he says, eventually. “You want the life but not the vigilante part.”

“Yeah!” Jason exclaims. He rubs Dick’s shoulder. “Yeah, exactly. Exactly!”

“When did you decide this?”

“Ah, I don’t know,” Jason shrugs. “Couple months ago.”

“In…” Dick says, raising an eyebrow.

Jason doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he just sits there and stares at him.

“Do you not know where you were two months ago?” Dick asks.

“No, I do,” Jason scowls. “I just don’t know why you’re asking.”

“Because I wanna know.”

“Why  _ do  _ you wanna know?”   


“I’m not here for Bruce, Jay.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “I’m not so sure I believe you.”

“Bruce is off world, Jay,” Dick promises. “Saving the galaxy with the Justice League or something. He doesn’t know you’re here yet.”

Jason narrows his eyes. “Then how did you know I was here?”

“Well, Babs saw you enter the country on CCTV alone,” Dick says, staring at the table. “She followed you until you passed city limits. After that, Tim took over. He was the one who found your house. And visited you, obviously…”

Jason glares miserably at his drink. He doesn’t seem to like this conversation at all, which is not a good sign.

“And after that, he did fill us all in on everything,” Dick says. “Me, Dami, Duke, Steph, Cass, Kate and Alfie. But not Bruce.”

“Not Bruce because it was a choice, or not Bruce because the message hasn’t reached yet?”

Dick clenches his jaw. “Jay, you’re gonna have to talk to him sometime.”

“I know that.”

“I mean, he’s gonna end up knowing,” Dick presses. “Or finding out. Or visiting. I don’t know.”

“Do you think he’ll like Bessie?” Jason ponders, with a sudden change of tone. “I reckon he will. Brooders tend to get on with brooders. Or, at least, I read that somewhere…”

He’s trying to change the subject. But Dick won’t let him. Not this time.

“Did you leave to avoid Bruce?” Dick asks.

Jason sobers up all of a second. His eyes are large and dark.

“Are we going to do this now?”

“I have to know,” Dick says. “He has to know.”

“Why does everything in my life have to be about Bruce?” Jason asks. “Or Bruce’s drama, or Bruce’s feelings?”

“He’s going to rain Hell on you if he thinks you’re up to something.”

“He _always_ thinks I’m up to something.”

“Jay…” Dick shakes his head. “Please.”

“If you don’t know why I left, you’re stupid,” Jason spits. “And if he doesn’t...he’s even stupider.”

“Please don’t do this, Jason.”

“And if any one of you want to trade blows with me, you’ll know where I’ll be,” Jason says, standing up. “In my little house, scheming away. Sucking Riddler’s dick and playing poker with Firefly.”

“I don’t think that of you,” Dick says. “None of us do.”

Jason laughs. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Dick stands up, taking Jason’s arm. “I don’t think that of you.”

Jason searches his eyes for a minute. He doesn’t leave, which is something. Even if he looks like he’s going to punch Dick in the nose.

“I missed you,” Dick says. “I missed you like all Hell. Things went wrong, and I know you needed me, and I needed you. And I’m sorry for that. I couldn’t be more sorry.”

Jason looks away. His jaw is still incredibly tight, like he’s gearing up for something.

“I’m just trying to understand,” Dick says, in a plea. “That’s the point of all this. I’m trying to understand if you’re alright. If I can help. What’s going on.”

“You’re not my therapist, Dick,” Jason spits. “I’ve already got one of those.”

“Okay,” Dick says, looking down. “Okay.”

“I know what I’m doing sounds crazy,” Jason says. “And I know when I set out that everyone was going to think I was crazy for doing it. I know what you all think of me. And to have that suddenly switch around...it’d be scary! I know it’d be scary. And I know you’d be suspicious as Hell.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh, please, Dickie,” Jason looks away. “It’s what you’re raised to be. It’s what we all were. I’d treat you the same if you turned evil.”

“You weren’t evil before this, Jay.”

“I know, I wasn’t, Dick,” Jason says, sitting down. “I know.”

\- 

“Do you have a brother, Velma?” Jason asks.

It’s the next day. Jason is sorta over his hangover by now.  _ Sorta. _

“Yes.”

“Is he older or younger?”

Velma considers this for a moment, confused. “Older.”

“Do you get on with him?”

“Sometimes.”

“Hmm,” Jason closes his eyes for a second. “Yeah. I think it’s always like that with olders. Y’know, I read some shit online about it being their place to influence the values of those beneath them.”

“Do you believe in that?”

“I mean- Dick- I mean, Dirk- he certainly tries,” Jason says. “But I think that’s more about the kinda person he is and less about his place in the family, you know?”

“I understand,” Velma clicks her pen in deliberation. “Do you think your place in the family has changed you as a person?”

“Well, not really,” Jason says. “Nobody listens to me anyway.”

He glances over to Velma, who isn’t laughing. Wow. Tim wasn’t lying when he said she was good.

“That was a middle sibling joke,” he adds. She still doesn’t laugh.

“If you were the older sibling in this scenario,” Velma says, instead. “And you- you were Dirk. How would you advise him?”

“I certainly wouldn’t try and fix shit with his dad, that’s for sure,” Jason snorts. “Been there, done that.”

“How so?”

“I don’t want to talk about Br- uh, Bryan,” Jason says.

“Alright.”

“They used to fight, though. Fuck  _ me,  _ they used to fight.”

“Was this when you were younger?”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “Now, it feels like the tables have turned, you know? Because now, Dirk is really close with Bryan, and I’m the absolute opposite.”

“Don’t you think that puts Dirk in a kind of a unique position?” 

“Huh?”

“Well, he knows what it’s like to be in your shoes,” Velma says, “but he also knows what it’s like not to be. So maybe he was right in trying to advise you on your relationship with your father.”

“Hmph,” Jason says. It’s not an admission, but it’s sure as fuck isn’t a denial. “That being said, I’m not Dirk.”

“Well, obviously.”

“No, I mean- we’re different people. And we’ve done different shit to Bryan over the years.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning some shit is forgivable, and some shit isn’t.” Jason says. “Fuck. The worst thing Dirk did to Bryan was get a mullet.”

“You’d be surprised,” Velma says. “Some things are distant to some, but close to others. Dirk seems like a very open person.”

Jason snorts. “Seems.”

“If you asked, I'm sure he'd tell you his relationship with Bryan isn't always perfect.”

Jason glares her way. "How would you know?"

“I don’t. I just know no relationship is perfect.” She lowers her glasses. “Especially those we share with our fathers. Do you think it would relieve you, at all? To ask?“

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want help with Bryan, or anything else.” Jason says. 

“Because you don’t need it, or because you don’t think your relationship with Bryan is fixable?”

“Both!” Jason bursts. “Jesus Christ! Does everything have to be about motherfucking Bryan?”

Velma watches him calmly. “He seems to be at the front of your thoughts, is all, Jason.”

“No, he’s not,” Jason says, sourly. 

“If you say so.”

“He’s not!” Jason spits. “In fact, the only time I think about Bru- Bryan is when people bring him up! So if you stop bringing him up, we’ll be peachy! All will be well!”

“Alright,” Velma says, calmly. “If you say so.”

The way she says that makes Jason want to flip a chair. But he’s being normal, so he closes his eyes and breathes slowly.

“I do,” he says, after a minute.

“Okay,” Velma says. “So tell me this. What’s next in your quest for normalcy?”

“Next?” Jason is completely bewildered. “Well, I tried getting a beard and it didn’t work.”

“Oh,” Velma says. “Have you tried microblading?”

“Micro-” Jason begins. “Nah. Fuck that shit. I’m onto yoga now. And it’s gonna be _beautiful.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i mention that this is slightly a comedy fic or did u kinda get from the vibes already?? ah well
> 
> btw this fic takes tom king's nightwing head thing into canon but minus the lobdell ric grayson shit. because fuck that. in this universe dick healed with his family around him instead of breaking into peoples houses and becoming a vin diesel-esque taxi driver. because??? why the fuck would he have??
> 
> also jason shooting penguin and running away/going into exile happened at about the same time as dick being shot in this canon. i know the events aren't that far apart in actual canon but hey ho i do what i want. also bruce didn't beat jason half to death for shooting penguin in this canon either, because what the fuck. in this universe, they had an argument and bruce offered jason help but jason refused it and ran. (but i'll get onto that later.)
> 
> for now, i hope you like this crazy beautiful ride around jason todd's head, and his attempts to be normal. i based his personality on pre-52 jason mixed with a little bit of rebirth. hence the erratic hyperness/menacingness. idk if that's a word. ah well. anyway, he's a joy to write, and a joy to get to know. i very much hope you enjoy getting to know him and reading him as much as i do.
> 
> stay beautiful nd think positive thoughts babes.
> 
> also follow me on tumblr redtruthed. i love it when yall message me it honestly makes my day right <3

**Author's Note:**

> btw takes place 8 months after jason shot the penguin in the face (rhato 25) and as if that business iceberg phase never happened okey okey? his angry kill kill phase still happens but that's gna be addressed later okey dokey doobles i love you all <3


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